


How Sam learned to hate clowns

by Ischa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Horror, Kid Fic, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-22 05:29:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/234344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam remembers the first time he lost his innocent faith in Dad.</p><p><i>It was Dean who told him that there are evil clowns living under the stairs in the basement. Small, vicious creatures that would bite your toe off and he believed Dean. He always believed Dean. As long as he can remember he never caught Dean lying. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	How Sam learned to hate clowns

  
**Title:** How Sam learned to hate clowns  
 **Pairing:** none  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **Summary:** Sam remembers the first time he lost his innocent faith in Dad.  
 **Warning(s):** a bit horror  
 **Author’s Notes:** I aimed for something funny like last year’s Halloween-fic, but it turned out really gloomy. I fail at life.  
 **Word Count:** 2.172  
 **Beta:** tygermine  
 **Disclaimer:** Don’t know, don’t own.

\--+--  
~1~  
It was all Dean’s fault.  
For late October, the weather is pretty warm, he thinks as he steps outside the motel to cross the parking lot to the small diner nearby. Dean is of course still sleeping, but he deserves it after the hunt they have behind them. Buffy had it wrong. Around Halloween all kinds of nasty things crawl out of their holes. Hunting in October is more stressing than any other month, not because the things are nastier, no, just because there are more of them. Or it seems like it to Sam. To Dean too, for that matter.  
As he enters the diner, he is greeted with a tired smile from the middle aged waitress; he smiles back and sits down. He feels tired too, but for the hell of it he couldn’t sleep any longer. He left Dean a note, so he doesn’t freak out, and went to get himself some coffee and maybe some breakfast too while he’s at it anyway.

“What can I bring you?” she asks, and doesn’t call him ‘honey’ or ‘sweetheart’ or any other stupid pet name he hates so much since he was eleven.

“Coffee and a slice of pumpkin pie?” He asks, she nods, says ‘sure’ and he sighs in relief. The diner is decorated with pumpkins and other cliché Halloween stuff. He hates that too. He first began to hate Halloween when he was seven, he thinks. And that is really pretty early to start hating a holiday. He sighs again and looks out of the window while he’s waiting for her to bring him coffee and pie. The street is deserted, but it’s still pretty early.

~2~  
It was Dean who told him that there are evil clowns living under the stairs in the basement. Small, vicious creatures that would bite your toe off and he believed Dean. He always believed Dean. As long as he can remember he never caught Dean lying.

“There are no such things as evil small clowns!” Emily says and gives him a look. Emily is always hanging out with the boys in the neighbourhood, even if she is totally pretty and stuff, for a girl that is.

“Dean said so,” Sam answers stubbornly.

Emily huffs. “Your brother lied to you, because he doesn’t want you to go down there.”

“Dean doesn’t lie,” Sam says, and he believes it.

“All people lie, that’s what my dad says,” Emily answers and her younger brother Peter nods. Sam isn’t sure it’s because he agrees with Emily or if it’s because their dad really keeps saying that. It doesn’t matter anyway.

“Why would he lie about something like that?”

“Hell if I know.” Emily answers and Peter gives her a look, as do Matt and Keith. Peter’s is disapproving, of course, while Matt and Keith are always amazed at how creatively she can swear. For a girl that is. Then she shrugs and goes back to explaining her plan of how to steal one of Mister Garrets pumpkins. Sam isn’t sure he should hear that, but he kinda likes to hang out with Emily and the boys.

~+~  
“Emily said there aren’t any evil small clowns under the stairs,” Sam says and his dad looks up from his bowl of soup. Dean cooked it. Sam is looking directly at his brother.

“You told him what?”

“About the clowns under the stairs,” Dean says and shares a look with Dad. Sam is sure he is missing something here.

“Ah, yes. Sammy,” Dad says and turns to look at him, “there are evil small clowns under the stairs. So please stay away from them.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam says, because it’s Dad and Dad doesn’t lie to him.

~+~  
“That’s so stupid, Sam,” Emily says, another reason he likes Emily is because she never calls him ‘Sammy’.

“But Dad said it’s true. I told you,” Sam answers. They’re sitting on the Well’s porch. Emily is sucking on a lolly pop, swinging her striped sock clad feet. He really likes her. For a girl she is pretty okay. Peter is lying on the dying grass and his mom doesn’t seem to care anymore. (She told him five times already that he shouldn’t do it.)

“Well, let’s check it out then,” Emily says and Peter looks up from whatever he was doing – playing with leaves Sam supposes – and at his sister.

“Are you insane?” he asks. His blue eyes piercing.

“No, I’m not. You are confusing me with aunt Ophelia again.” She answers loftily and Peter glares at her. She just shrugs it off.

“Isn’t that breaking and entering?” Matt asks. His dad is a cop and Dad doesn’t like it much, that Sam is hanging out with a cop’s kid, but Sam didn’t know when they moved here and besides he likes Matt.

“Well, not if Sam gives us the key. There is no crime in getting in if the keys are handed to you, is there?”

“I guess not,” Matt admits.

“What if there are evil clowns under the stairs?” Keith throws in. He is a bit of a coward, but that’s because his dad is a pastor. You can’t grow up with the wrath of god behind your back and not be afraid of all kinds of consequences.

She rolls her eyes. “There aren’t any evil clowns under the Winchester’s stairs for fuck’s sake! Get a grip. Honestly! I am the damn girl here!”  
And when she puts it like that…

~+~  
“Dad is always busier around Halloween,” Dean says. He keeps watching the TV, second bowl of cornflakes on his lap.

“But when will he be back?” Sam asks again.

“I don’t know. Maybe in a day, maybe in five. I don’t know, Sammy.”

“Can I have some friends over on Halloween?” Sam asks, he never had friends over before and he didn’t even want to, but well…Emily made him ask. Handing the keys and all that.

“You want a sleepover?” Dean asks, turning so he can look at Sam. Sam nods. Yeah, that’s what he wants, or that’s what Emily wants. “I don’t know…” Dean says slowly.

“Please Dean, just a few kids. I mean, Keith and Matt and Emily and her brother?”

“You’re still hanging out with the Sherriff’s son?” Dean asks.

“Of course.” Sam answers. Because, seriously!

“I’ll talk to dad?”

“Oh, okay…let me know soon?”

“Sure,” Dean answers and turns back again to watch TV. Sam sighs. Well, that didn’t go too badly, right?

~+~  
“If he says no, we will just sneak inside…” Emily says.

“No way! My dad will never believe whatever crappy excuse I can come up with,” Matt says.

“I’m out too,” Keith says, “I mean, if Sam’s dad says no, then its no.” He adds hastily. He knows they think he’s something of a coward, but they don’t have god looking over their shoulder’s now, do they?

“That’s crazy; Emily.” Peter throws in, he is playing with the hem of his shirt, and that means, Sam learned, he is talking serious business here.

“It’s not, because there is nothing under the Winchester’s stairs!” She says with a finality no one can argue with.

~+~  
In the end Dad says no. And Sam feels just a little bit relieved. Because he is well aware even at the young age of nine that his family is a little bit different from others. And he doesn’t want to be a freak, doesn’t want others to think he is one.

~+~  
The tapping on his window wakes him with a start. He looks at the clock: 11:17. For fuck’s sake!  
And then there is tapping again, a bit louder and he gets up to look what it is. If it’s a branch he just can snap it or something, he thinks.  
Emily’s face is hovering just outside the window.

He opens it with: “Are you insane?” Because the tree she climbed is fucking huge. And he doesn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if she’d fallen.

“Aunt Ophelia!” She answers, climbing inside the room. “So, your dad home?” she ask, he shakes his head no. “Great? Your brother?”

“Downstairs with some girl?”

“Great!” She says. She wears all black, except her knee socks, they are yellow with white stripes. “Now, the key. I can’t believe, I’m the only one who wants to prove you wrong,” She says slightly exasperated at the low calibre of male friends she has.

“Downstairs, I didn’t think you would come!”

“Sam, we need the keys, because I want to go down there if I’m getting grounded for this.”

“Right,” he says.

“I’ll wait here.”

“Right,” he answers, before he opens the door quietly.

~+~  
It’s surprisingly easy to steal the keys from Dad’s room. May be because Dean taught him a thing or two. How to pick a lock for starters. (Not that Dad knows about that.)  
He risks a glance into the living room, but Dean is occupied and urgh! Sam will never be the same again.  
When he comes back, Emily is sitting on his bad, trying to read a book in the dim light from the small lamp on the nightstand.

“Alice? Really, Sam?”

“You’re reading it, right now.” Sam answers in a whisper.

She smiles and says: “Let’s go then. To see your evil small clowns.”  
The climb out of the window and land in a heap of leaves. Some stick to Emily’s hair. She pulls at them half heartily and then just shrugs.

~+~  
Sam opens the backdoor to the basement and recoils, it’s dark in there and smells really bad.

“What is that smell? For god’s sake.” Emily asks.

“I don’t know. I haven’t been down there, ever.” Sam answers, and it doesn’t mean anything considering they’ve only been in the house for about four months. It’s longer than they lived in other towns.

“I have a torch.” Emily says and produces one out of her small bag, it’s a small torch and it’s pink. Sam would comment on it, but she glares and tells him to shut the fuck up, it was a present from her dad.

“Whatever.” Sam says and grins at her. She shoves him out of the way and steps onto the stairs. Something makes a funny noise. (And with funny he totally means creepy and like _hungry_ …)

“What the hell?” Emily murmurs, but she doesn’t stop and neither does Sam. Just follows her down. Into the darkness and this unbelievably bad smell.  
He doesn’t see what grabs her, but he hears her scream and in the split second before the torch breaks he sees her face: pale and out of her mind with fear.

~3~  
The waitress sets the mug on the table with a soft ‘clong’ and he looks at her with a small grateful smile. As he turns back he sees Dean stretch in the pale October morning sun just outside the motel door.

“Miss?” He says, she looks a bit surprised, but also pleased.

“Yes?”

“Can I have another coffee and another piece of pie with cream, please?”

“Sure,” she answers with a smile. It’s never wrong to be polite.  
Dean is making his way over to the diner, fumbling with a match box, maybe thinking about the few weeks he was smoking secretly on the roof when they lived near Chicago. Sam doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to.

“I got you pie,” Sam says.

“For breakfast?” Dean asks.

“It’s Halloween…”

“You hate Halloween,” Dean answers, as he slides into the both across from Sam.

“You don’t…”

“Hmmm…”  
They drink their coffee in silence, and Sam is glad that Dean doesn’t feel the need to fill it.

~4~  
There were no clowns in the basement. Sam doesn’t know what it was, he doesn’t think he wants to know. He doesn’t want to think about why Dad and Dean kept it there. He doesn’t want to think about Emily’s screaming face.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean yells.

“You lied,” Sam says and it’s just a whisper. “You lied and it got Emily nearly killed!” He screams.

“I called Dad, he will be here tomorrow morning. He wants our things packed by then.” Dean says; he’s not looking at Sam. Sam doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s guilt. “Go pack your stuff.”

“What about Emily?”

“I don’t know!”

And that just means that she will die.

~5~  
Around October he always remembers how he lost his innocent, complete faith in Dean and Dad and he remembers her face. And tries not to hope she survived. It never works.  
Dean’s phone interrupts his brooding and as Dean snaps it shut, Sam looks at him.

“So?”

“It was Cas,” Dean says, gulping down some coffee. Of course Sam thinks, because it fucking always seems to be Cas these days.

“I guess we’re done here, then?” Sam asks, but it’s not really a question. He knows the answer.

“Yeah, drink your coffee and eat your pie and we’re out of here.” Dean says. Sam nods.

~end~


End file.
